HER WET PILLOW

THE START

CHAPTER 2
THE START
As a driver, he goes to work transporting people from Jos to Zaria. His job was actually going well and he was getting a great income but.. I know, a lot of us don’t like buts, this time I have to use it. Where did I stop? But he was a drunkard. Getting drunk naturally was unethical, it was also against our religion, customs and tradition. But my grandfather was of the habit of drinking and not only that, he also gambled. All the money he got from his job was wasted on gambling. He didn’t consider his family condition nor his own health. I just wonder what he was gaining from drinking to stupor. As if that wasn’t enough, he would come back home late and seek for food to eat. He didn’t even care about how the food was gotten, who bought it, how Nana was able to cook it; he only cared about his tummy. Some of you would think of why Nana would also give him food after all he provided nothing. Hmm, this was the same question that ran through my mind until I found out he used to beat her. That was so terrible, he didn’t provide support, he didn’t care for his family and he didn’t appreciate what Nana was doing. How cruel he was! Forgive my manners; he is still my grandfather after all. Currently, a man raises his hands on his wife and he is finished. Is it the women right activists or the NGOs or her family members? Not for Nana, she wasn’t even allowed to tell her own children but they were not blind. Then, women like Nana didn’t know their rights which resulted to them being treated like animals. Even animals wouldn’t be treated the way Nana was treated. Despite the ups and downs, Nana still wanted her children to go to school. This reminds me of my mom’s diary. “A story is most beautiful when told by its owner”.  It would be nice if you listen to the story directly how it happened from my mom. Here is my mom’s diary:
“Although we were young, we all knew mom was going through hard times alone. The saddest thing was the fact that she actually hid all she felt. She didn’t say a word but all the bruises on her face and her body already spoke. I never wished to have a father like this. I feel this deep pain whenever I see him, was it because he wasn’t a good father or because he wasn’t a good husband or because he verbally and emotionally abuses mom or because he never appreciated her efforts? What a father I have! He never attended any of our school programs nor asks for the way we go to school or what we do in school. Not as if his attitudes were not enough, he disgraces us in public when he moves back home drunk. But despite his behaviors, mom keeps defending him. She wouldn’t accept any bad comments or ill-talks against her husband. Only if he knew the value of the rose he had in his garden, he would have spent his whole life worshipping it. I can remember asking mom:
“Mom, why does Daddy keep behaving like this? He moves on the streets drunk, he doesn’t care about us and he even beats you up…”
“How do you know he beats me up?” She cuts in.
“Mom, you can’t keep lying that you fall down every time. I do hear you scream whenever Daddy is beating you up. Mom, you can’t keep hiding this from everyone. This is not good for you at all.”
“Don’t worry dear, your daddy will change soon, it’s just the matter of time. He wasn’t like this before.”
“Mom, you and I know that he has always been like that. I can’t just imagine you have been enduring this since when you got married. How bad dad is…”
“Don’t say that again, he is your father no matter what. Do you know how many people are dying to have someone they call Dad but here you are saying wrong things about your dad. How ill-mannered of you, is this how I trained you? My dear, I understand you don’t like what your father is doing but no matter what, he is your father, he has his rights over you; he has to be respected”. She said.
I was deep in thought and was silent for some minutes. Despite all that he did to her, she was against anyone disrespecting him. I got so emotional that tears started to drop from my eyes. My mom noticed my eyes were teary so she wiped the tears with her blessed hands and hugged me so tightly that she also started to cry. What a life I am living in! What a pity! We knew not moment of happiness and joy completely. It’s either we were happy in the morning and sad at night or we were sad in the morning and happy at night. Despite the obstacles, my mom managed to get everything under control and Allah helped her manage her affairs. There was one thing with mom, no matter how little she has, she gives away part of it and that was why she never lacked. As a trader, she managed to buy food items and the necessary things that the family needed. There wasn’t a difference between her and a widow, a widow is even better because she wouldn’t be punched as hard as my mom was being punched.
I was just 12 but I knew more than my age as I had witnessed lot of things adults haven’t witnessed. There were times mom didn’t get enough from her trade, resulting to us managing the little garri we had at night and mom would sleep with hunger. My mom actually thought she had a normal daughter but I was worse than she could ever imagine. Only my pillow could tell the sorrow I felt as it would be wet before morning, only my diary could listen and absorb the pain because I couldn’t tell anyone. I was a normal girl to anyone but in real life, I was an over thinker and a person with a damaged heart.  I had to be an elder sister to my siblings; to help and support them whenever they needed help. My mom would give us zobo to take to school, alongside biscuits and a fifty naira note to buy things in case of any emergency. Countless times, Aliyu would come and take the money to buy pencils; he always lost his pencils. I had a less competitive class as the students in my class didn’t take studies seriously. Among my peers I was even know to be among the poorest of the poor; the uniform I wore, the shoes, socks and books. Other students would come to school with fancy clothes and wonderful bags and this was part of the reasons I had no friends. I was usually bullied by my mates at school; they would insult me and call me names. It hurt me a lot as tears would roll out of my eyes. I would put my head on the desk and weep heavily to the extent my eyes would turn red and no one would stop me; I had no friends. The thinking would take over my mind and I would enter the land of thoughts. Why is this happening to me, why must it have to be me? The same me have family issues, suffer from poverty, gets bullied and dresses in rag. Then I would remember why I had to face all those problems and go to school to be successful; for my mom.
Things started to change in my life as I decided that I wanted to learn more and do more.  I became more serious with my books, I learnt to ignore harsh comments and moved on. I used to go to the library during break to avoid my peers but later, it was for a different purpose; I wanted to learn more. I would say to myself:
“Oh dear, you have to face all the bullies, hunger and depression. You would have to be hard working and straight forward; your mom needs a successful daughter.”
But one thing was still uncertain; I don’t have an ambition.  I actually worked hard and my grades began to improve rapidly. My mom was so impressed; I was showing a good example to my siblings. Suddenly, I stopped being the dirty poor girl to an intelligent girl in school. I was 12, but still in primary school. I was in the last year in primary school so I had to do extra to get admitted into a better school. Looking at my performance, my school signed me up for a scholarship exam which I actually partook and passed. That day, i left school with my siblings and went home in a joyful way and with an envelope in my hand. I wouldn’t say I was walking because it looked like I was jumping out of joy and excitement.  We were finally home:
“Assalamu alaikum.”
“Waalaikumus salaam.”
“Albishirinki!”
“Goro”
“I have been given scholarship to study in Bright Brain Academy.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very well mom”. I said and she immediately bowed down in thanks.
“Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillahi rubil Aalamin.” She said with tears of joy rolling down her eyes.
She gave me a tight hug and lifted me up. I haven’t seen mom this excited before in my life. She was so happy as she was completely overjoyed. He ran to the room and brought some sweets out. She then shared it to me and my siblings. The celebration was on and everyone was happy. Aliyu and Isah started singing while I, mom and Fatima were dancing. It was a very beautiful atmosphere, I wish it could be the same forever but it won’t . The last time I saw my mom in such happy mood was when Fatima came back to life. That statement might have looked awkward but it was right. Fatima was the youngest in the family so she shared that strong bond with both my mom and dad. Although dad wouldn’t joke or laugh with anyone but if it comes to Fatima, he would melt like an ice in the sun. She was young and cheerful, she was the most beautiful of all my mom’s children. Everybody was attracted to her. She had malaria. I never took malaria as a serious disease until that very moment when Amira was lying on her sick bed. We called her Amira; my dad gave her the nickname. Everybody was bothered as her temperature rose very high. She was lying like a lifeless human and she was sub-conscious. Everybody thought she was dead. The nurse then hurriedly gave her an injection and her eyes opened. My mom called the nurse nearby as she couldn’t afford hospital bills. When Amira opened her eyes, joy filled the air. My mom was happy and was shedding tears of joy. She hugged her baby and thanked Allah for the life of her daughter. Anytime we remembered the story, we would say: “Amira came back to life”.
My mom was very happy to hear the news. She actually left for the market to get some food stuff to celebrate the progress. Let’s talk about Bright Brain Academy; why was there so much joy? Bright Brain Academy was the dream of every student in my community. The school was the best secondary school in the whole state. I and my siblings actually used to see it in the television and pray for our dreams to come true. The school was the best in academics and extracurricular activities. Most students from that school have left for other countries to study as the result of their wonderful performance. Not anybody get the chance to be there not even the wealthy. I was so lucky to be chosen. To me finally, things are actually becoming beautiful in my life. I didn’t talk about my score, I had 92%. My hard work actually paid off.
My mom cooked Tuwon Shinkafa and Taushe soup for us that night. It has been ages since we ate that wonderful meal. We sat on the mat in a circle and ate together; it was part of mom’s culture to sit us down and eat together. We enjoyed eating together because as we do so, we would chat and laugh. Mom used to say it was a way of promoting love between one another. The next day, my mom went to her shop happily and made a lot of profit. She decided to go to the market to buy me a school bag and a shoe in preparation to me schooling in the best school in my town. Rich kids actually attend the school, my mom wouldn’t want her daughter to appear tattered among fancy girls so she did her best to get me some things to help me fit in. hmmm! Fitting in was one of the biggest problem I faced. Let’s talk about my life in my new school.
My mom did her best to help her poor daughter. It was finally my first day at school. My mom dressed me up and prayed for me. She then said:
“Be an ambassador to you and we ( your family) . You are all we have and what we need. You need to remember your source and be contented with what you have; don’t look at what other people have. Always be satisfied and love yourself the way you are. Don’t lie about your identity, be yourself.” She said to me and hugged me as she let me walk down the school gate. We took a tricycle to the school and stopped before the gate.
I was excited and happy as it was my first day in school. I was in my rolled hijab, suit and skirt which were properly ironed after mom collected it from the school before resumption. I was walking down then I noticed other students started looking at me in a weird manner. Why was that? There were fingered pointed at my back.; I turned to look at the back of my skirt. You wouldn’t believe what I saw….